


The Cure

by TheLilyLiveredDuke



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst and Drama, Drama, Eventual Romance, M/M, Magic, Minor Violence, Multi, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Tags May Change, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23450524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLilyLiveredDuke/pseuds/TheLilyLiveredDuke
Summary: In a fantasy world, Virgil is a teenage boy surviving off the land in a small human village. He was always told that going outside the village was dangerous. But when a hard winter strikes, he is forced out of the protection of the walls to hunt. But little does he know, he is being hunted as well...Thrown into a world very unlike his own, Virgil is forced to become two the very beings that he was brought up to loath; a cross between a vampire and a werewolf. On his own, and caught in the middle of a turf war between the vampires and werewolves, Virgil must travel through their lands to find the Cure.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WatchOverYourAssButt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatchOverYourAssButt/gifts).



A lone figure stalked through the forest, the night a perfect cover to hide the deeds it would commit. _Prey, kill, hunt._ A never-ending cycle of heinous crimes so it could continue on.

The rustling of trees caught its attention. Slowly, it crept through the brush, drawing a knife from the sheath 'round its waist. _Soon._

A beautiful stag, with caramel-colored fur speckled with white, the same color as the flowers around it, lay grazing lazily in the grass. Still, through the pretense of calm, the deer's instinct never left. Its head darted back and forth, watching. It could sense it.

It waited no longer. It pounced. Though born with no natural defenses, the feel of the knife in his hand was the most natural thing to it. The knife was like a lion's claws; sharp and able to kill with a single swipe.

But the cold winter that had recently passed left him weak and worn from hunger. He landed on the deer's back, swiping at it with his knife. The deer went into a frenzy, trying to buck him off, almost skewering him with its long horns. 

They were caught in a frenzied dance. When one moved, the other countered. The deer bucked again, and he ended up flipping over the deer's head, holding on only by the horns. It bucked yet again, his leg bouncing up. It wasn't till it was too late that he though to re-position his legs, for at that final buck, it pierced the side of his leg. He gasped out, not so much from pain as from the shock of feeling the skin rip.

He lost grip on the deer, and fell to the ground, a thud sounding as he hit the earth. The deer bolted away, leaving him laying there on the ground. He wasn't aware of the pain, not at first. He lay there, on the ground. When he finally realized he was laying there, he sat up a bit and looked down at the wound that had been given to him. 

Blood pour through a gaping hole in his calf. He knew it was a lot, and what kind of creatures it would attract. That's when it caught fire. It was a very hot pain. He could actually _see_ the inside of his leg, a white lining of what was probably fat, crimson blood lacing it.

He screamed out for someone, _anybody,_ to help him. 

_'No,'_ he thought, ' _Not anybody.'_

He knew what kind of creatures there were in this forest, and he wasn't fond of any of them coming near him; for they certainly would not 'help' him. Quite the opposite, in fact. But he knew that with his shouts, and the blood pooling 'round his leg, he was almost shouting out the invitation; _Come and dine, bloodsuckers!_

He tried to sit up, preparing to make a makeshift tourniquet out of a piece of his clothing. The shirt he as wearing did not matter; what mattered was that he get home before the sun set, if he was to travel with a blood-soaked leg. If he was to travel at _all._

But he knew that without help, he would be food to the creatures that stalked around at night, and without proper protection, he was as sure as dead.

As he sat there, compiling his thoughts, his vision becoming a bit hazy, a rustle in the brush. _It's your turn now,_ he could almost hear the trees whispering. _For your horrendous crimes, you have been sentenced to the same fate as the innocent animals you have murdered under our watch._

The figure slowly closed in, as he slowly started to panic. _Who was this? What did they want? Was it... was it one of the creatures he had feared would encounter if he went into the woods?_

"Vam-vampire!" he sputtered out, pointing at the cloaked figure.

"Virgil," it said. "You are one of us."


	2. Storytime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil tells the children of the village the story of how he lost his leg.

"And that, kids, is what happened to my leg."

Virgil lay back in the old rocking chair, the wood groaning under his weight. He stretched out his prosthetic leg, tapping it gently on the wood floor, as the children 'round him gazed in a mutual shock and excitement. 

On that particular fall day, the sky was blanketed with a dreary grey, and the damp air brought with it a gloomy state; the telling of a story always seemed to brighten the mood, as Virgil knew well.

So there they sat, Virgil in the old rocking chair near the hearth, with twelve young ones sitting around him. 

"What happened after the deer attacked you?" A little boy, with about five years in him and sat nearest Virgil, looked up at him with wide eyes and mouth set in a firm line. The seriousness portrayed on the boy's face almost made Virgil laugh.

A cacophony of questions followed;

"Who was the strange person?"

"Was it a vampire?"

"Did you die?"

As well as others, which were too numerous to name. At the last question, everyone around looked up at him, brows furrowed, eyes wide.

A chuckle escaped Virgil's mouth.  _ The minds of children will believe anything they hear, hm?  _ "Well, I'm sitting here, talking to you, aren't I?" He looked at them each, in turn, noting the confusion in the younger ones and even a slight disappointment in the faces of the elder ones. "Or would you rather I had died and not be able to finish the story?"

He said this to one boy in particular, of which was a troublemaker from the start. He had come out of the womb fighting and rivaling. This said boy glared up at Virgil, a smirk lining his features, He shook his head, red hair falling into his face, as if to say,  _ I don't know what you're talking about. _

Virgil sighed, mockingly. "Oh, well, I suppose you'll never know who the stranger was..." he lay back in his seat, crossing his hands behind his head. 

Many cries of protest sounded. "Tell us, tell us!" the children begged. A few who were closer to him tugged on his pants legs, others put their weight on the base of his chair and tried to rock it.

Virgil laughed. "Alright, alright! I'll tell you, but sit down, all of you!" He shook his leg slightly, clapping his hands. The children scrambled around to find a good spot, closer then they were before. 

Virgil leaned in. "There I was, bleeding out, the black-draped figure standing over me, when..." The children leaned in, curiosity almost pouring out of them. 

A monstrous roar erupted from the doorway. The children jumped, a few screaming from the fright. The roar morphed into a hearty guffaw, echoing throughout the room. Virgil joined in, as well as a few others after a tentative moment.

"His huntin' partner who 'e didn't keep up with foun' 'em laying on the ground bleedin' his insides out." A giant man, stocky with a bushy black beard— which made him look a bit like a werewolf himself, seeing as to the unruly amount of hair covering almost every inch of him— grinned at the children, as he walked over to the fire to warm his hands from the cold, as he brought it in with him. One of the kids nearest closed the door after the wind started blowing through. He shot the burly man a look of mock contempt.

"'Ain't that right, Virge?" The man looked up and winked at Virgil. 

"Indeed, Nicolae." Virgil rolled his eyes. While it may have been the truth, a lie would have been more befitting to tell the children. The real story was... boring. Well, not boring. But the ending, a huge letdown. Nicolae had found him bleeding out, and had to carry him back to the village. Everyone around had watched as Nicolae had shouted for help, and his leg had to be stitched up. But infection set in. His leg was later removed.

"Ah, you're just upset 'cause you weren't able to ta tell 'em young'uns that ya' were attacked by a vampire!" He pulls off his boots, repeatedly hitting them on the ground to get the mud off. He looked up at Virgil. "An' what did I say? Call me Nicu." He scoffs at his name like it's something estranged to him. " Nicolae. Too formal."

"Well," Virgil started again, "Before I was so rudely interrupted," he glared at Nicolae. " I was saying that the deer ran off, leaving me to bleed, and this figure was standing over me." He sighs. "And yes. It was Nicu." A few of the children tsked, disappointed. 

"You all know what happened after that," Nicolae said from the fireplace. He was scraping the ground leaves on his shoes into the fire. "I carried 'im back 'ere to the town, like the helpless babe 'e is, where Reselda had to patch 'im up."

"False!" Virgil shouted, jumping to his feet, startling the children around him. "It wasn't Reselda!" Pause. "It was Mila." Everyone in the room laughed, and Virgil sat back down, blushing, but joining in, chuckling.

"See, Virge, even you can't deny!" Nicolae boomed. He walked over behind Virgil and patted him roughly on the back. Virgil flinched. 

"I guess." Virgil crossed his arms, looking up at the man and sticking his tongue out. "If I'm a baby, I might as well play the full role." He then screamed in Nicu's ear.

The children laugh, and Nicolae swears at him. "Thank's for ruinin' my ears!" 

"Very welcome," Virgil teased. He leaned back in his chair, gazing up at him. "And what are you doing here? And being so rude as to interrupt my story?" What  _ was _ he doing here? He was meant to be out with the other men, chopping wood or hunting to replenish their stocks for the winter. It was forecasted to be a hard winter; the geese and ducks had already migrated, and there was already an abundance of acorns on the ground, which the squirrels were hurriedly trying to gather.

Nicu scratched the back of his neck, looking down at the floor (well, more like into his beard). "Well, 'ya see, Virge..."

He then seemed to remember the children in accompaniment, some of which were listening more attentively than others. A few had wandered over to the doorway, a few were chasing each other in a rousing game of tag, and a couple of the youngers were playing a game it seems they had invented themselves with a small acorn. 

Nicolae peered around the room, eyes darting back and forth, then roared at everyone— Virgil was thinking that from this show it wasn't hard to explain why he had thought Nicolae was a monster— to get out. He stood up and started chasing the children, shooing them out the door. The children, of course, scattered, pushing and shoving each other to get out quicker. Nicu slammed the door behind them when the last had left, and slammed it shut

Virgil was on his feet in a moment. What a terrible thing to do to those children! What could be so important that he had to force the children to leave, and in such a barbaric manner?

"What did you do that for?" 

"Well, 'ya see, Virge—"

At that moment, a man burst into the room. He looked scared. "Nicolae, what are you doing? We need you and Virgil in the Hall as soon as possible!"

Virgil spun to look at Nicolae. "Nicu? What is he talking about?"

"Well, 'ya see..." Nicolae pauses but doesn't say anything. He looks down at the floor. 

"Virgil..." The man that entered spoke in a soft tone. He looked at him apologetically. "I'm sorry."

"For... what?" Virgil was confused. What were they talking about? Why... why was Nicu hesitant to tell him? Nicu was usually so talkative and spoke his mind. 

"Virgil," the other man spoke. He walked over and put a hand on Virgil's shoulder, then winced and drew back as if he were poisonous. He may as well be, for all he knew about what was happening. Virgil's anxiety started to kick in. What if something happened? Problems with the crops? Wolves? Or... werewolves? 

The man blew out a breath. 

"We need you for the Hunt."


	3. The Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil, after being ordered the Hunt, does not expect what is about to happen...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Minor violence, some cursing.
> 
> Well, a new few new characters here. :) 
> 
> Next chapter, we meet Roman, so look forward to that (or not XD)

'What have I gotten myself into?'

This thought raced through Virgil's mind as he stalked through the woods, his dagger ready in hand. he rubbed his thumb up and down the smooth, worn wood, trying to comfort himself. 'All is well, all is well.' Bu even his little chant could not occupy the thoughts whirling through his mind.

He was not level-headed, and he certainly wasn't graceful in account of his leg, and the combination of the two left him running into tree and stumps, tripping over roots in the ground, jumping at the smallest noises; an animal scurrying through the dense brush, the rustle of the leaves above as the wind blew through them. They cast ominous shadows as the moonlight poured down on the forest at night.

It would have been a beautiful sight, had it not been that particular night. Though Virgil knew every tree, from scouring those woods often, that night they seemed to grin, mocking the poor souls who might lose their lives.

A shadow darted to his side, and he jumped, raising his knife defensively, taking a step back. He tripped over a loose pebble, scurrying to get up, before... whatever it was... attacked him. There wasn't time to waste. When he righted himself, however, he realized it was just a squirrel. It scampered up a tree, and holding on with a paw, turned back to look at him, almost giving him the same mournful look the man had given him. 'You are needed for the Hunt'. Did he think of it as a death sentence for him? he looked down at his prosthetic. Most likely.

A few of the elder men shot him glances over their shoulders, not stopping to see if he was alright. He knew they were probably thinking something along the lines of, 'Damn kid, he'll be the death of us.' Virgil wouldn't blame them is he did. he was a hindrance, and if the mission failed, they would be good as dead, risked leaving the village unprotected against the hordes.

Simply put; they could not fail.

Of course, he couldn't help himself. He narrowed his eyes at them. It wasn't his fault he was ordered to the Hunt; it was demanded of him by the village elders. He knew the risks at stake, that there lives depended on this. It was a so-called honor.

Why he was chosen was beside him. Even as a child, with his scrawny build and constant anxiety, he knew he had little chance of being chosen to fight against the werewolf hordes as they came to plunder the village, steal children, the weak. But it had been his dream, and he never gave up hoping. His father had been in one of those fights, and he had always been proud of him. He wanted to follow in his footsteps. That is, until that fateful day, when he lost the only thing that he thought would help his chances; his gracefulness. Since then, he knew it was an honor that would no be bestowed upon him.

Yet, here he was. Among a group of hot, sweaty men who were not in the best of moods, determination lining their hard, weary faces. But Virgil had grown up with these men, and knew that this wan't them; merely their bodies, ready to fight. But who they were on the inside was tucked deep inside, hidden away. Better not to show their true feelings, because alarm could set off a group, driving them to insanity, fear ripping their hearts in two. Stay, die. Leave, die. But at least your families would be safe. Right?

  


Better not to let their emotions get the best of the, because here, under the moonlight, blood would be shed.

Finally, they reached a point some 100 yards in the distance, the village barely visible, only a flicker of light through the trees. The leader of the patrol raised his hand, signaling them to a stop.

"From here, we split." He read off a list of names from a dirty piece of parchment in his hands. "Jonas, Sebastian, Finn, Jakob, Nikolae, you'll go left from here, patrol the boundaries of the woods. When you see 'em bastards coming, fire a signal arrow." Finn nodded, holding up his bow. "Good. The rest 'a you, you're going to head back and ready the weapons. If anything goes wrong, you're to escort the women and children along the path we just took, take them along the path we just took, following the river. Go down hill, it should lead to another village. Right?"

The men and Virgil nodded. Hopefully, things wouldn't get to that matter, but it was better to be prepared and and unneeded than necessary and unlearned. The men the leader called out split from the rest of the group, moving to stand next to an old willow tree, helping each other put on their armor, or to sneak a few sips of booze to calm their nerves. There was no friendly banter, no laughter, the only sounds their panting breaths as they tied on their leathers.They spared a few fleeting glances at each other, conversing what they would not say; _Indubitable courage, brothers._

After they had put on their armor, nothing stirred in the large, open space. they waited for something more, anything, to be said. They looked a each other, both groups, for a good few seconds, until the leader, Lucian, took a step forward, coughing and clearing the phlegm from his throat. He faced the men opposite him, and held out his hand to them, the back of his hand facing the sky.

"That is all, brothers. the gods be with you." He salulted them, then turned onhis heel and stared to walk back the way they came. He looked over his shoulder at Virgil's group. Move out."

The men slowly trotted forward, Virgil trailing behind, wanting to catch one final look at the other men; his family. He caught Nicu's eye, who looked like he wanted to shout someting after him, but he wasn't able; before Virgil could so much as lift a hand in farewell, the patrol leader pulled him aside.

Virgil blinked as he was spun around to face the older man.The man pursed his lips, staring down at the boy in front of him. 

"What do you think you're doin', eh?" Lucia sneered down at him, his stained teeth clearly visible, making Virgil wonder what exactly had caused it; from a lifetime of drinking booze and chewin reeds, perhaps? It seemed likely enough, considering most mentook part in those leisures. even Virgil's own father had done so occasionaly.

Virgil looked up, confusion lining his face. "i was just... following your orders, sir." He gestured at the group of men, who's backs were already disapearing into te treeline.

Lucian shook his head, annoyed. He crossed his arms over his huge barrel chest. he was a big man (though not as big as Nicolae, who was affectionately known as the village giant), and Virgil dwarfed in comparison, his father's small build shining through. The man towered over him menacingly. "You're a _boy_ , and a scrawny one at that." He poked Virgil in the chest. "Can practically see your bones! Why would the elders have you out here?Someone bribed 'em, maybe, eh? Must'a had a big mouth to get under someone's hide enough for them to want a bounty on 'ya!" He let out a 'ha!' at his own joke. Or maybe at Virgil's expense. 

His face turned serious. "You need to go home, Virgil. It isn't safe for 'ya." Lucian's eyes looked Virgil up and down, pausing a bit too long on his leg, before shooting up to look him in the face. Frowns lined both of their faces, Lucian's one of urgency, Virgil's one of ill-ease.

Lucian grabbed Virgil's upper arm, pulling Virgil toward him, 'till their noses almost touched. Virgil could smell the rank odor of the man's breath invading hs nose. ' _Yup_ ,' he thought, ' _alcohol, and a strong one at that, and tabacco_ ,'

"Do you have a deat wish? Going out here would practically be suicide for you." he sighed, shook his head, then let Virgil go. "I don't want to believe the elders actually said something as foolhearty as letting you out here, but i don't really have a choice." He glared at Virgil, then shoved him back slightly Virgil stumbled, not expecting it. "Fine then, go with the others. Help prepare the walls for attack. But if I so much see you with a _knife_ in your hand, you're in trouble." he turned around, marching towards the other group, and Virgil could've sworn he heard him mumble, "And I won't be blamed at your funeral."

Virgil rubbed his arm where Lucian had shoved him.

Die? He didn't think he would do that. he might've been weak, had a fake leg, and been small for his age, but he was... well, when he thought on it, he could see that Lucian was probably right.

He turned and ran to catch up with the others, who had left him behind. Tracking them wasn't difficult;they had done a sloppy job of covering their tracks, and he could _smell_ them. Even with their enhanced sense of smell, the werewolves would have no trouble finding them.

That's what Nicolae's group was for, in part; a distraction. The other reason, of course, was to wear them down a bit before they reached the village walls,so the would tire, and the archers and other men would have an easier time picking them off.

As Virgil raced through the woods, hurrying to make it to the village at the same tie as the other men for fear of being barracaded outside, he thought he heard the sound of a voice, screaming.

What the hell? he thought, slowing his pace, but still moving, perking his ears to try and hear.

Again, he heard the voice. And it was closer.

He bolted, at a dead run, for the village, the sounds all around him now. It wasn't a scream; it was a howl.

When he exploded out through the treeline, everthing was chaos; the people of the villag were running as fast a they could, some wome, with babies in their arms, children cowerding at their heels, and old citizens, the one's whose health was not as well, hiding wherever thy would fit, knowing they couldn't run. Fires sprouted everywhere, and the men from Virgil's group were nowhere to be found. But Lucian's patrol was already there, fighting the werewolves. Blood dripped down their clothing (it wasn't clear whose) and they were bloody and ragged, but kept fighting. One of the werewolves, with dark brown fur and piercing green eyes, shoved one of the soldiers aside, running for a young child with his mother. 

Virgil rushed forward to help the man. It was Lucian! But as he neared him, Lucian waved his arms, yelling as loudly as he could, "Go, go!" Every 'go' forced blood out of a gash in his stomach, and Virgil's stomach heaved. Virgil's drew his knife, hesitating, then ran.

* * *

The underbrush and dead leaves scattered on the forets floor did not help him in his hasty retreat; he was being chased.

he almost ran in a nearby tree, grabbing on to it and propeling himself forward as best as he could. he tripped, fell. His vision was hazy. ' _By the gods, I'm going to die_ ,' he thought as he laid there, defeat grabbing him by the heart and wrenching it apart. _'I'm going to die, and I didn't even help anyone. Coward. Mom, dad..._ " tears welled in his eyes. His parents had been so brave, sacrifcing their lives in the Hunt five years ago; but what had he done? Run. 

Through his blurred vision, he could see the shape of a creature coming up in front of him. 'So, here it is,' he thought. The end. he wiped the tears from his eyes, at least hoping to die with his pride intact, but what he saw before him wasn't a werewolf.

With it's large, powerful body, snout, and fur, it looked like the bigest werewolf one had ever laid eyes on. But the bat wings, and fangs, told a different story.

Virgil gasped. He thought it had only been a legend.

"Come with me," the werepire snarled, "or I'm taking you by force."


End file.
